


ʻoliʻoli Mele Kalikimaka!

by HornedSerpentNine



Series: Companion Oneshots for the Veela’s Omen Chronicles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Rape, F/F, Pansy’s self deprecating, Pansy’s soul needs loads of TLC, Physical Abuse, Sex Trafficking, Trigger warning:, brief disinterest in living, yo this gets heavy in the feels in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HornedSerpentNine/pseuds/HornedSerpentNine
Summary: Title translation (Hawaiian): Merry Christmas My Purple Flower!While Hermione is off on her own Fifth year Yule break, (chapter: Blood Is Thicker Than Water), Pansy is spending hers in Hawaii with the Davis family (as mentioned in chapter: Revelations)
Relationships: Alpha Pansy Parkinson/Omega Tracey Davis
Series: Companion Oneshots for the Veela’s Omen Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580833
Kudos: 6





	ʻoliʻoli Mele Kalikimaka!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any Harry Potter, nor do I own any lore I found in the Wiki pages/Pottermore.  
> My wonderful Beta is Rencae!  
> Also, I use Google Translate  
> Also-Also, all comments and questions are welcome! I always reply!
> 
> Extra Notes: Caribbean Monk Seals are now extinct, and their cousins; the Hawaiian Monk Seals and Mediterranean Monk Seals; are critically endangered! 🥺

Let’s be clear about something: I hate Muggles. I especially hate their foul invention of _airplanes_. The shuddering, hollow hunks of metal with faulty magic that spews stinky gas and barrels through the air leaving a trail of unnatural white clouds. The airplane that’s carrying me in its belly barely took off the runway, and all the while I could hear the hull groaning under the weight of gravity.

This mockery of flying terrifies me, for my life is now in the hands of a Muggle who’s supposed to be flying this thing. Give me a broom, and I’ll fly circles around you, but being squished into this cramped, flying pig-pen is not my idea of “traveling in style.” Or any type of respectable traveling for that matter.

I grip the armrests with a death grip, thankful that I had the foresight to lay the blanket a Muggle servant gave us over my seat. Who knows what diseases I could catch?

“Isn’t this so exciting? I haven’t been on a plane with anyone from school because—well, you know,” Omega Tracey Davis squeals next to me. I grip the armrests a little tighter.

“Seventeen hours and twenty-five minutes,” I growl, and Tracey loses a little of her glee.

“We knew it would be _long_ , but—”

“We aren’t Muggles! We’re _Purebloods!_ Why didn’t your parents just arrange a Portkey? It _highly_ more efficient, socially acceptable, _and_ we would already be in Maui by now!” I snap, and Tracey withdraws beneath her public mask of subservience. I can’t help but sneer at how weak it makes Tracey look, even when I know she’s a lot stronger than she outwardly portrays.

Unless, Merlin forbid, she goes against Her Most Holy Holiness Hermione Mendonica (the Alpha with the most fucking perfect lineage). Come to think about it, that Luna Lovegood is downright terrifying if she wants to be. And even worse, the Gamma has taken an interest in Tracey.

I hate how uneasy that makes me.

I lean back against the seat, praying to Merlin for the millionth time that the airplane lands safely. I know that I’m a bitch, and I know that I’m taking it out on Tracey, but she doesn’t put up a fight like another Alpha would.

 _That’s because all the Alphas are following Hermione now,_ an inner voice of mine mutters, and I scowl. However, since Omega Lady Davis (Tracey’s mother) is sitting on my other side, I restrain my pheromones from pumping out unhappily. Tracey turns away from me to stare out the window, and I heave a long sigh.

It’s a long seventeen hours and twenty minutes.

* * *

I wake to the feeling of my ears popping uncomfortably. Jolting up, I growl, ticked off at myself for falling asleep.

“Look! There’s Maui!” Tracey squeals against the window, watching raptly as the airplane circles the island. Lady Davis stirs from her reading, and she shuts her book gently.

“Tracey, don’t smudge the glass,” she admonishes softly, and the Omega leans back a little guiltily.

“Sorry Mummy,” Tracey says, flashing a quick smile at her mother before looking back out the window.

“How was the flight, Pansy?” The Omega woman asks me, and I unclench my hands from the armrests and roll my stiff shoulders.

“Boring,” I yawn, and Lady Davis narrows her eyes.

“Boring, my Lady,” I amend quickly, and Lady Davis nods, pleased.

Say what you will about Omega mothers, the ones with Omega children are always scarier than the rest. If my Mother were here (not that she’d even be rumored to be within a kilometer of a Muggle airplane), she’d just nod and accept my answer. It would be my Father’s responsibility to correct my manners. I’m honestly a little surprised that my Father didn’t know the Davis’ would be taking me on an airplane.

The airplane touches down bumpily, and after a few minutes, it blessedly stops. I stand up, stretching as much as the cramped space allows. Two Muggle servants walk down the aisles.

“First Class may disembark,” they say, and begin helping Muggles get their luggage from the compartment bins. Lady Davis stands, and directs one servant to our bin, and the servant pulls down our luggage.

“Thank you,” Lady Davis and Tracey say to the Muggle servant, who smiles, and moves on. It’s startling to me to see a Pureblood Lady thanking the help. Matter of fact, I’m still mind boggled that the Davis family do this every year. Tracey nudges me, and I turn to look at her.

“You could be more polite, you know,” the Omega whispers to me, and I shrug. An awkward feeling creeps up the back of my neck.

“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter, and Tracey rolls her eyes at me. I try not to blink at her owlishly. This Tracey outside of school is very different than the one I’m used to. Her brashness and wild flare of challenging me in small ways (most of which I think she doesn’t even know she’s doing) is new to me . . . And exciting. I find that I don’t mind it as much as I should.

We disembark the airplane, and enter Maui’s airport. Instantly, Tracey spots her Father, and she abandons all decorum and runs to him with a loud shout of exuberance.

“Daddy!” Tracey throws herself at Lord Davis, and he catches her, spinning her around a few times before setting her down. I stiffen, and subtly glance around at the Muggles whose attention was drawn to Tracey’s little scene. Lady Davis lays a hand on my shoulder, and my whole focus narrows on her touch.

I can’t help but stand straighter, widen my stance, and tilt my chin up a little in the perfect Alpha pose that my Father beat repeatedly into me.

“You can relax, Pansy, there’s no one here that we know,” Lady Davis says, trying to be comforting, but I don’t believe her. She can’t guarantee that, and furthermore, if one of my Father’s informants spots me anywhere near Muggles, I’m dead. If Lady Davis senses my apprehension, she doesn’t say anything.

We walk up to Tracey and Lord Davis, and the Alpha man turns to me. We appraise each other silently, and I dip my eyes to his chin, acknowledging his dominance here. He doesn’t lower his head as he looks down at me, but he huffs, and accepts my acknowledgement.

With me dealt with, Lord Davis turns to his wife with a kind smile. They hug, and then he addresses all of us.

“The House-Elves are finishing tidying up the Beach House, and I have a Portkey waiting for us,” he says, and relief washes through me. No more Muggle contraptions. As we walk through the airport, I try not to grimace at the Muggles surrounding us. We’re by far the most impeccably dressed here, and that makes us stand out. Normally, I would love such a thing, but being watched by filthy Muggles isn’t the most appealing.

Especially when a passing group of boys ogle Tracey. She doesn’t notice, since she’s far too entranced by the pictures of whatever her Father gave her. I glare at the boys, and wrap my arm around Tracey’s shoulders to draw her in close. The boys don’t get the message, and just whistle at us, and then they’re gone.

I sneer after them. Muggles are so disgusting and crude.

“U-u-uh, Pansy?” Tracey gasps, her voice three octaves higher than usual.

“What?” I instinctively become alert at the scent of her elevated pheromones, and look around sharply. A stream of Muggles cuts us off from Lord and Lady Davis, and instantly I’m more on guard.

“Y-y-y-your hand,” Tracey whimpers, and that sound does something to my stomach. I glance down, and nearly fly out of my skin in shock, horror, and scandalous embarrassment. The chaotic airport fades to the background, and all I’m aware of is the feeling of a fast heartbeat under my palm.

My hand has dipped a little under the collar of her shirt, and my fingers barely graze the rim of her bra. I never realized how soft and warm her skin was. My hand twitches, and I feel a trail of small goosebumps rise up under my touch. Two instincts rage to life in me, one in my head, and one in my gut.

“Tracey?”

I jerk away from the Omega when I hear her mother calling, and we both flush madly.

“C-coming Mother!” Tracey stammers, and I have to bite my lip to keep from saying anything. Lady Davis reappears, looking a little flustered with worry.

“There you two are, what have I said about dawdling? It’s a good thing you were here, Pansy, or I wouldn’t have spotted you two at all,” Lady Davis says in one breath, and then she proceeds to herd us out of the airport. Lord Davis doesn’t say anything, but his calculating look in his eyes suggests he knows why we’re still both red in the face.

A nagging, curious Alpha thought wriggles into my mind, and I indulge it. As nonchalantly as I can, I raise my hand to brush back some hair behind my ear. As I do so, I pass my hand in front of my nose and take a sniff. The heady scent of fresh kale with a hint of sea salt lingers on my skin, and I have to tamp down on the urge to purr.

My reaction startles me, and I furiously comb over my memories to figure out why Tracey’s scent is now so attracting to me. Sure, she’s got that Omega spice to her scent, but I’ve been around Tracey since day one of my First year when Daphne left my compartment after our argument.

I don’t even remember what we were arguing about, only that I said something the Beta didn’t like. I frown, trying to remember why Tracey stayed with me, but I chalk it up to the Omega wanting to be close to an Alpha.

* * *

As soon as I see the Davis’ Beach House on Oahu, I wonder why they don’t live in Hawaii year round. It’s an absolutely stunning structure of brilliant architecture, sweeping luxury, and sheets of strategic glass. Tracey giggles at my expression, and takes my hand.

“Come on, I’ll show you around!” she says, and I let her drag me around the beautiful Beach House. Although it boasts only two floors, every room feels airy and bathed in sunlight, and the open wooden rafters showing on the ceiling add an old homey feel. The whole house is a mix of cool, off-white marble with gold, black, and grey veins, and I love it madly.

My favorite part is the downstairs, where two wooden panels of the main living room wall slide back into sheathes in the stone walls, revealing the lanai. The marble changes to tile, and I walk up walk to the stone circle that houses what Tracey calls a “hot-tub”. Below the hot-tub, is the “pool”. The pool’s tiled floor slopes down at one end, and has dolphins painted all over it.

“Our family usually goes to the Shark Cottage on Ni’ihau, but we bring visitors here,” Tracey prattles on, and I nod. I’m in awe of this place, and I haven’t even seen if it has any magical rooms yet. Looking out a window, I spot a small and attractive rock outcrop in the distance. It adds a natural flare to the already stunning Beach House.

“Mummy picked out our rooms, they’re up here,” Tracey says, and she scampers up one of the many staircases in the Beach House. I follow her up the stairs, down the hall, and into a quaint, blue room. Tracey flings herself onto the bed, and I see the duvet has all kinds of fish embroidered on it. In fact, the whole room feels like a soft, blue bubble with magical moving paint.

Seaweed forest waves in the painted current, and sea creatures of all kinds swim on the walls. The predominant creature dancing near Tracey’s bed are seals. Tracey sighs in relaxation, and it occurs to me that we’re unchaperoned in her room; me, an Alpha, and her, an Omega. I step back to a wall, eyes darting to the doorway, waiting for Lord Davis to come in with all the fury of an overprotective Alpha father.

“Oh! I forgot to add something to your room! I’ll be back in a bit!” Tracey jumps up and runs out, leaving me alone in her room. I breathe a sigh of relief at the potential crisis averted. I walk around her room, looking at the odd little things here and there. I never knew that Tracey loved the sea this much, although considering that she loved sitting in the Slytherin Common room and “listening to the Black Lake sing”, I should have guessed.

To be honest I always thought she was homesick and just trying to prove she wasn’t.

I stop by her closet, and open it. There’s a decent amount of tropical themed clothes, and a surprising amount of sandals on the floor, but my eye catches on something. I reach out and push the shirts to the side, and stare at a tiny crack in the wall. No House-Elf would leave such a thing; even as small as it is: unfixed unless explicitly ordered not to.

It makes me suspicious. We Parkinson’s are bred with the ability to smell lies, and this one reeks of it. Oddly enough, it smells like fish. I unsheathe my wand from my arm-holster, and tap the crack.

“ _Revlio,_ ” I mutter, and I wait, staring intently, but nothing happens. I tap the crack again.

“ _Revlio_ _._ ”

Again, nothing. A little miffed at the crack’s refusal to reveal itself, I try again with more force.

“ _Revlio!_ ”

This time, something does happen.

* * *

I stare at the hole-that-was-a-crack in the wall, and then at the fur blanket thrown haphazardly in it. I grimace, and tap the hole three times. It shrinks back to a crack, and I stand up. Well, that was disappointing. All that for just a blanket? It wasn’t even a pretty one, since the fake fur was all brown.

I turn around, and freeze when I see Tracey standing in the doorway. Her eyes are impossibly wide, and her wand is clutched in a white-knuckle grip. This isn’t the easygoing Tracey that left her room, no, this is an Omega operating on fight or flight mode. And I know from experience (courtesy of Blaise losing his shit when I taunted him one too many times) that overemotional Omegas are a force to be reckoned with.

I keep very still, just watching Tracey’s body language. Internally, I’m cursing myself for not paying attention to when the Omega would come back, and now I can’t even sheath my wand. Pure fear, and furious Omega pheromones prick at my skin, making me sweat a little as my Alpha pheromones react with hers.

Tracey’s eyes dart from me to her open closet and the crack on the wall.

“Did you see it?” she asks, her voice cold and dark. It sends shivers down my spine, and against everything I’ve ever been taught, I lower my eyes for the Omega. I draw in my Alphaness deep inside me, and I don’t dare peek up to see what Tracey’s expression is. I can, however, smell that her pheromones are relaxing, losing her anger and a little of her fear.

I angle my body more inwards, trying to appear smaller to appease her territorial instincts. It works, and now Tracey’s pheromones just push at me testily in annoyance.

“See what?” I ask softly, and by the exponential spike in her pheromones, I’ve made a grave error.

“ _Obliviate!_ ” Tracey screams, and I lunge to the side, diving behind her bed.

“ _Confundo-Petrificus Totalus!_ ” I shout, and my spell-string nearly clips Tracey’s shoulder. The Omega yelps and falls to the ground, and I lunge for her window.

“ _Finestra!_ ” This time my aim is true, and the glass shatters as I leap through the window.

“ _NO! PANSY!_ ” Tracey howls behind me, but I’m Disapparating mid-air before her spell can hit me.

* * *

Ihit the ground running, and immediately eat a mouthful of sand as my calf erupts with pain. Trying to spit the small grains out, I look down to my leg. Blood coats my entire leg, but the splinch isn’t that deep. A hysterical laugh bubbles out of my mouth, and I shakily aim my wand at the splinch.

“ _E-Episkey!_ ” I mutter, and the skin over the wound begins to heals.

“ _Episkey!_ ” I cast more forcefully, and I sigh when the overheated feeling of pain cools a bit. I raise myself onto my elbows, and slowly onto my knees. I keep my ears peeled for any noise, and when I look up, I scan the empty little beach surrounding me. I close my eyes, thanking to high Merlin that I had spotted this cove before I touched the Portkey.

I also begrudgingly thank Hermione for being such a great duelist that I payed attention to her (granted, I was jealously observing how Daphne stared in fixation at Hermione).

I slowly get to my feet, and wince at the pain that shoots up my leg. Right now, I need to get back home to England, which is a problem. I crouch, hobbling along the cove and into the water. The sea will wash away my scent if Tracey somehow manages to find me here. The water makes my wound sting, but I clench my teeth, and the feeling numbs.

I have to find shelter first, and then figure things out. By now, I’m sure Tracey will have spun a story to her parents, and they’ll gather their resources to hunt me down. Why she went all looney over a stupid blanket, I have no idea, but she was scared. I keep trudging deep enough in the sea water so that I don’t leave tracks, but gradually the coast starts to pull away, and the water level starts to rise.

Now that I think about it, why _didn’t_ Lord Davis come barging into Tracey’s room. By Merlin, he could have at least assigned a House-Elf to watch over us, or perhaps even Lady Davis. The fact that they both were just _gone_ doesn’t sit right with me, and I can’t help but feel I was set up. The hot burn of betrayal stokes my chest, and I smash my hand against the water.

I’m now up to my hips, and I have no clue what to do next. I hope to Merlin that one of my Father’s informants saw me and tracked me. A gleeful thought of the Davis’ faces when the full might of the Parkinson’s rains down on them warms me. They have no idea who they just turned on.

I look to the shore where the island begins to slope up, creating a cliff face that I can use to shield me. What perturbs me is that neither I nor my family smelled the Davis’ duplicitous intentions when they lured me here for their “annual Yule Hawaii trip”.

 _They weren’t going to betray you at first, but they still went through with it,_ my annoying inner voice whispers. I growl, and stare down at my reflection. My vision blurs, and I see small ripples plink into the sea. I wipe my eyes, flinging my tears into the foam.

“I’ll see you burn,” I swear, imagining Tracey screaming as I serve my vengeance to her. Filled with cold perseverance, I keep on hand on the cliff face, and wade forward.

* * *

I make another mistake when the water is at my chest level. I have nowhere to go, and I can’t see anywhere I could Apparate to. To make matters worse, the sky is starting to turn orange with the dusk. I lean away from the cliff as far as I dare, but there’s no beach in sight. Grimacing, I have no other choice but to Disapparate back to the hidden cove.

* * *

I reappear with a crack inside a bonfire, and promptly fling myself out of the fiery tongues. Screams of shock and horror slice the air as I roll around in the sand to extinguish the flames. I’m lucky that I reacted so quickly—

“ _Gaccck!_ ” Something wraps around my neck, choking the breath out of me. I blast out my Alpha pheromones wildly, and my hands tear at my throat. The cord cutting into my trachea loosens a smidgeon. I claw desperately, and manage to work a few of my fingers under it before it cinches tighter.

“I bagged me an Alpha bitch!” A man’s voice sneers, and I snarl. My one free hand frantically searches for my wand, and when my fingers brush the familiar wood, I clutch it to my chest.

“Lemme get a look,” another man growls greedily, and I twist onto my side as rough hands grab my arms.

“ _Incarcerous!_ ” I shout, jabbing my wand right into the man’s face. I get a split second of satisfied pleasure watching the man’s face become enveloped in tight ropes, and his screams muffled before the first wizard hits me with a stunner.

* * *

I jerk awake when someone smacks my face so hard I fall over. My exclamation of surprise and pain never makes it out of my mouth, and I realize that I can feel a gag tied tightly around my head. It’s too dark to see what’s going on. I can hear rustling of clothing, and smell the fear around me. I wriggle around, but my arms and wrists are pinned to my body by restricting, prickly chains.

Moving my feet doesn’t work either, as they’re cuffed together with little slack between them. Another shift of my legs tells me that someone fully healed my splinch wound. I shift my arms to feel for my wand, but it’s not in its arm-holster.

“Wake up slaves! Auction time!” A man calls mockingly, and I blink my eyes to adjust to the sudden onslaught of light. Someone hauls me up, and backhands me. I jerk, snarling around my gag, and pump out furious Alpha pheromones. The man drags me out of whatever hole I was in, and into another room. He stands in a doorway, silhouetted by the bright light, so I can only see the whites of his eyes.

“I’ll enjoy making you—”

“Oi! that one’s already sold,” another man comes up behind the one holding me, and I glare at him. This one is smart enough to wear a mask, but I can practically hear the smirk in his tone. From his accent, I know he’s British. The rest of the thugs have strange accents I can’t place.

“Don’t you know who this brat is? She’s the Parkinson heiress,” the masked wizard drawls. The man holding me hisses in surprise, and he drops me. I can’t help the yelp that escapes me when I crash against metal plating.

“Merlin, man, we need the goods to be intact for the ransom,” the masked wizard drawls, and he flicks his wand at me.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

When I start to float, I thrash, yelling obscenities behind my gag. The masked wizard just laughs. He moves me out into daylight, and I suddenly can hear the billowing of wind, the jeers of men, and the cries of women. I look up, forcing my eyes to focus, but the masked wizard steps in front of me.

He grabs a fistful of my hair, and jerks his hand back. I grunt as I stare up at the bright blue sky.

“Be grateful bitch, your purity is still unblemished because I vouched for you. Should I become less so inclined, _this_ is your fate.” He snarls, and twists my head to the side. I stare in horror at the scene in front of me. I’m on a giant, flying warship, with six other warships flying in a cluster around us.

Visible on the warships decks, cages with women and girls of all ages cram every available space. They’re all chained as richly dressed men saunter around them holding champagne glasses. There are even little boys here, running amok and harassing the prisoners.

“Welcome to the Freedom Flyers,” the masked wizard purrs in my ear, and the tip of his wand digs into the nape of my neck.

“ _Imperio!_ ”

* * *

I struggle against the oppressive, fluffy, weightlessness. It sinks into my mind, and I bite my lip hard to ground myself. I know I can’t lose myself in the false security the forced weightlessness offers. I remember seeing Hermione stare down Moody (the fake imposter Moody) as he cast the _Imperius Curse_ right in her face.

She never even blinked, and by Merlin, if she could block an Unforgivable, then I bloody well can, too. Wet liquid drips down my lip, and I let out a howl of rage, and suddenly the fluff in my mind is blasted out. The masked wizard shouts in pain as my magic shoots out of me and slams into him.

I fall to the deck, landing hard on my knees. There’s silence all around me, and I look up to see a torn piece of a mask dangling on the ship’s railing. A wand lies discarded in front of me, apparently dropped when the masked wizard fell overboard. All at once, the men on the deck rush at me, brandishing their wands.

I lunge forwards, throwing myself over the wand, and my hand manages to wrap around the wood. A spell slams over my head, and I roll sharply, Disapparating before I have a destination in my mind.

* * *

I’m being stretched so thin, I can barely hold myself together, and I let loose an unheard scream. My mind scrambles to think of some place—any place—before I’m split into a million bits, and I remember rocks. I roar, gathering myself together for a last push through the impossibly tight tube suffocating my body.

* * *

I drop the wand into the water when my back crashes into sharp rocks. I groan around my gag, and I sag against the cold rocks. I’m numb all over. Honestly, I’m so damn lucky that I didn’t splinch myself this time. I sigh, and look up at the roiling, grey clouds above me. Well, let’s hope it doesn’t get any worse than this.

_Aaaaaaaaannnnnnd . . ._

A raindrop falls on my cheek. I curse behind my gag, and carefully roll onto my side. I startle when my legs splash through water. So that’s why I couldn’t feel them; the cold water had numbed them. The water that’s slowly rising up my rock outcropping. I jerk, shifting onto my butt and I carefully scoot up.

My mind instantly thinks of Apparating back to the cove, but I lost the masked wizard’s stolen wand to the sea, and I don’t know if there are more “Freedom Flyers” waiting for me there. My heart mourns for the women and girls trapped on those ships, but when a clash of thunder rolls over me and the rain starts to pour, I’m reminded of my bigger problem.

I shuffle backwards, trying to get to the top of the rocks while not slipping as I get soaked. But I need my arms to climb, and those arms are still tightly bound. A frustrated growl is lost in the pounding rain. I stare at the rising dark waters, fear filling me. I’d even take any of the Davis family kidnapping me over this slow torture. I search the horizon, trying to find higher ground, but my vision is obscured by the heavy rains.

I stamp my feet, and wish that I could send off a Patronus, but without a wand, I’m as useless as a Muggle. That thought chills me to my core, and I realize now that I’m going to drown. I tilt my face up, exhausted tears falling from my eyes.

I’m just so _done_ with everything!

I’m done with the universe hating my guts!

I’m done with my most hated rival, Hermione, who doesn’t even have to acknowledge me because she’s too damn strong!

I’m done with people betraying my trust and kicking me aside!

I’m done with trying to convince myself that I actually matter within my own House!

I’m just . . . Done with it all.

I’m tired of trying to prove myself.

I watch my tears fall, and disappear into the sea. I’ve added so many tears into the ocean today, and I remember witha detached feeling that since a day has passed (I’m assuming it was only a day), it is now Yule Eve. I watch the waters finally creep to my knees, and I try to stir up the self preservation that Slytherins are known for, but I can’t.

My Alpha pheromones drain out of me and swirl on the rocks forlornly. My anger dissipates, and all I’m left with is regret.

I regret arguing with Daphne (I remember now that we argued about Muggles, and she didn’t like it when I told her they should all be eradicated) on the train.

I regret not treating my friends with respect (because let’s face it, who would willingly spend time with an Alpha like me when there’s someone like Hermione around).

I regret every stereotypical, derogatory thing I said to any Omega (I now understand what it means to be powerless), without realizing what my words might do to them.

I regret lashing out at Tracey, my Omega Tracey (I know that’s how everyone differentiates her with Beta Tracey, even Hermione does it), but I realize who she is is more than her status.

I regret trying to challenge Hermione at every opportunity (she never answered my challenge and I’m eternally grateful she didn’t wipe the floor with my body), and I wish I could befriend her now.

Everything I did seems pointless, and a dark laugh escapes me when I realize I can count on one hand how many happy times I had in my life.

Had.

I’m already preparing for _it_.

That dreaded _it_.

The water is up to my waist, and I start to shiver uncontrollably. My teeth would chatter if I didn’t have a gag.

I tilt my head up again, finding serenity in the falling raindrops. Already, the current of the sea is pulling at me, and I watch as the washes crash against the rock tips that are still visible. A sudden wave bashes against me, and I’m dragged under.

* * *

_Everything is so cold and dark._

_I have no sense of up or down; only the living water invading my mouth and nose._

_My chains weigh me in a direction I presume is down._

_Down._

_Down._

_Down._

_Down into black._

_Down into . . ._

_Gold?_

_I blink as a glowing figure swims towards me, and my eyes widen. The begin’s light is too bright for me, and I cringe away from it, but it twirls around me._

_And then it envelops me._

* * *

I gasp, practically throwing up the sea I inhaled. I touch my sore throat, and I realize my hands are free. In another second I realize my gag is gone. I jerk my head up, and see only gold around me, an endless flat plane of gold with an endless mirror white shimmering “above” it. It hurts my mind to try to comprehend it, so I look down.

I can’t see my reflection . . . How eerie . . . But at least I’m still alive. I think.

“I almost missed you.”

I scream and jump away from the voice behind me. My wand is in my hand (I have no idea how it got there), and I twist to aim it at the woman. However, when I see her, my jaw drops.

“Hermione?” I squint, trying to figure out what’s _wrong_ with my statement. Sure, the eyes are right, but everything else is . . . _Not_ , in some confusing way. Not-Hermione smirks, and crosses her arms.

“You know, I just spoke with her, and I have to say, I think I like you a little better,” she says, and I frown. No one who meets Hermione can’t not like her, although there are some (cough, Pink Toad, cough) who loathe the Alpha’s guts, but they still respect her power.

“Anyway, this was just me doing a favor for a friend. Can’t have her cease to exist before she’s even thought of, you know?” Not-Hermione says, and I blink. I lower my wand, and stare at her incredulously.

“You’re just as creepy as Luna,” I say, and Not-Hermione smirks.

“You’re just as blunt as ever,” she drawls.

“I don’t know you . . . Do I?” I ask, and rub my eyes. Trying to stare at Not-Hermione somehow hurts more than looking at wherever we are.

“Nope,” Not-Hermione says, popping the “p” sound.

“Just tell me where we are,” I sigh, already annoyed with Not-Hermione. Merlin, she and Hermione either must have gotten along splendidly, or clashed titanically. I suspect the latter. Not-Hermione spreads her arms grandly.

“We are currently at a pause, and really, if I wasn’t on good terms with the Lithe Arm of Death, this little pocket realm wouldn’t exist,” Not-Hermione replies, and I’m even more confused.

“Okay . . . But _why_ are we here? Matter of fact, who the bloody hell are _you?_ ” I demand, and Not-Hermione laughs.

“Cute. I see where she gets her spunk from,” Not-Hermione says, and I growl.

“Anyway, I’ve held you for long enough, oh, say hi to Tracey for me will you?” Not-Hermione says, and before I can demand more information from her, Not-Hermione snaps her fingers and the lights go out.

* * *

I’m back underwater with water in my lungs, chains binding me, and still wandless. I flail frantically, trying to struggle to the surface, but I still have no idea where “up” is. I’m disoriented from Not-Hermione (although now I’m half convinced that was a hallucination), when I see something dark speeding towards me.

I freeze, not wanting my vibrations to alert it, but on second though I try to swim away from it. Of course it doesn’t work, and suddenly a large seal circles me. I twist in the water, trying to keep my feet aimed at its snout. By Merlin, I’ll drown before I get eaten by a good for nothing seal.

It lunges at me, and I use the last of my breath to get a good kick to its jaw.

* * *

Ringing in my ears.

Pressure on my lips.

Warmth over my skin.

I spit out the water lodged within my lungs. Shaking hands turn me to the side so I can empty the sea from me. Déjà vu trickles over my throat, but I ignore it. Suddenly, wet arms wrap around me tightly.

“Oh thank Merlin!” Tracey wails, clutching me tightly. I don’t have the strength to push her away, and I don’t know if I would if I could. I lean against her chest, and she adjusts a blanket over me. How kind. I also notice with some happiness that my chains and gag are gone. I feel for my wand in my sleeve, and I feel a thrill of magic when I touch gnarled wood.

I thought I lost it. I unsheathe it a little, and stare at the masked wizard’s wand. Tracey must have found it. I realize she’s blabbering on about something.

“—sorry and I didn’t mean to go crazy and it’s just I saw you with my skin and I freaked we aren’t supposed to reveal ourselves and I’ve grown up on horror stories about Sylkies getting their skins stolen and I knew you probably wouldn’t but I was so scared and I’m sorry I chased you and my parents gave me a dressing down for what I did since I pulled them away from their important meeting about the Freedom Flyers kidnapping more Sylkies and I—”

I turn around in her arms, grab her face, and crush our lips together. It effectively shuts up the Omega, and a shrill note of shock replaces Tracey’s word barrage. I lean back (but keep my hands where they are because _Merlin_ she’s warm) to stare into her wide, sea-glass-blue eyes. I feel light inside, and my body seems to buzz with joy that Tracey hadn’t betrayed me.

“Shut up,” I whisper even though she’s quiet. She nods dumbly, and I take a moment to appreciate her. Her short-brown hair in a bob style looks better all dripping wet, and I reach down to stroke her H.G. Tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. The Meerkat Tattoo preens at my touch, and I can practically feel Tracey’s mad blush.

I remember when she got it, and I remember the anxiety I felt when Hermione’s lethalwand pressed against her skin (I’ll always remember how that wicked hook carved into Draco).

“You saved me,” I say, still stroking Tracey’s arm.

“Uh, er, yes, I did. I was so worried that I wouldn’t find you in time, I couldn’t sense your aura very well underwater, but then I felt a huge aura spike—and I mean _huge_ —and I knew that’s where you were, and I found you! But you kicked me in the jaw when I tried to get you to the surface and—” I place a hand to her lips, and she shuts up.

I gently grip her chin and turn her face to the side. There along her jaw, is the pale discoloring of a bruise forming. I remember the seal, and then mentally go over Tracey’s word vomit of an apology.

“You’re a Sylkie,” I state calmly.

* * *

Tracey pales, and she lowers her head in fear. Her body tenses around me, and I look at the “blanket” covering me. I sense Tracey’s watchful stare.

“You skin,” I mutter, and I trail a finger along it. Tracey shivers, and her eyes flutter a little. I can’t believe I thought it ugly. The fur under my fingers is softer than anything I’ve ever felt, and the brown fur has a healthy, glossy shine to it.

“Yes,” she whispers softly.

“On a scale from a light tap on the wrist to taking out the whip, how mad are your parents?” I ask, and her jaw drops in horror.

“Your parents _whip_ you?!” she exclaims, and her arms tighten around me. I raise an eyebrow at her, a little confused. Isn’t that what every Pureblood family does? Merlin, I’ve seen Hermione’s mother, and there’s no way Hermione didn’t become as powerful as she is without being heavily disciplined by a mother like _that_ (her mask is also fucking creepy as shit).

“I take it your parents don’t?” I drawl, and Tracey shakes her head vigorously.

“No!” the Omega shouts, and then quiets when her voice bounces off the walls. I look around, seeing that we’re in an underwater cave with bioluminescent algae glowing along the ceiling.

“Anyway, they aren’t mad. They’re really worried for you, and fo me, since those bastard ‘Freedom Flyers’ are expanding their hunting territory,” Tracey snarls, and I nod.

“I know. I was there,” I say, and she gasps.

“YOU _WH—_ ”

I silence her with my hand again, and I smirk at her. Tracey gulps at the mischievous look in my eyes.

“Look, I don’t give a damn that you and your family are Sylkie’s—”

“Just Mummy,” the Omega mutters, and I ignore her comment.

“—and I understand why you’d want to keep it a secret.” I finish, and she nods. She adjusts her Sylkie skin around me, and I revel in its warmth.

“I always wondered what you would look like if you were a Sylkie like me,” Tracey blurts out randomly.

“What did you imagine?” I ask, snuggling closer against her chest. I wrap my legs around her waist loosely and rest my arms around her shoulders. I can feel her pulse quicken, and I subtly release calming Alpha pheromones. Her body relaxes against mine.

“Uh, Mummy and I are Caribbean Monk Seals, so I guess I pictured you as this huge, sleek seal made entirely of muscle with brown fur so dark it looks black,” she says dreamily, and I raise an eyebrow at her. I poke at her Sylkie skin.

“I’m not going to turn into a seal by wearing this am I?” I ask, and Tracey sighs wistfully.

“No. You need Sylkie blood and the skin to transform . . . That’s why I kinda blew up on you,” she says sheepishly.

“You said that people can steal your skins,” I say, and she nods gravely.

“Oh yeah, if a Sylkie has her skin stolen, she’ll follow whoever takes it . . . Obey whoever owns it, and Merlin forbid if a Sylkie’s skin is _destroyed_ ,” Tracey shudders, and I tighten my arms around her. We sit in silence in the cave, and it occurs to me that Tracey kissed me back to life. That stirs something in my memory.

“Aren’t there legends about Sylkie kisses?” I mutter, and Tracey flushes down to her shoulders. I perk up at the sight of her blush.

“Just whisper it in my ear,” I demand, and the Omega does so.

My eyes widen when she tells me.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

I wasn’t expecting that.

I look back at her, but she avoids my gaze.

“So . . . Now you want to fuck me?” I ask, teasing a little, and Tracey explodes into a flurry of panicked assurances that she’s always wanted me. I watch her fumble over her words, and I smirk (it’s honestly cute now that I think of it). I stroke her lips again, and she quiets.

“What do your parents think of me—your honest opinion.” I ask, and Tracey scrunches up her nose.

“Um, Daddy thinks that ‘she’s a rude, snappish brat, but I see room for improvement’. Mummy says that the ‘water flowing in her is troubled’, and you need a ‘good Sylkie to set her current right’.” Tracey says, mimicking her parents’ voices when she quotes them.

“Should you not be telling me your species’ secrets?” I ask, suddenly worried that Tracey will get into trouble. The Omega giggles, and then grins widely.

“Mummy’s the Granddaughter of the Hawaiian Sylkie Leader, and she already approves of us, so she’ll be okay with me telling you stuff,” she says, and I nod.

“I planned on buying you a Yule present here,” I say, and I start to stroke the nape of Tracey’s neck. The Omega shudders, and not from the cold.

“O-okay?”

I smirk.

“I promise I’ll give you and your family the best present ever tomorrow,” I drawl.

* * *

My gift is a success. I see my Father and Lord Davis ordering their minions around the ships, and Lady Davis personally opens as many cages as she can. She brought a small army of Sylkie women all from Shark Cottage (which is actually the name for the secret, Sylkie-only community on Ni’ihau). Apparently they weren’t very happy with Tracey blabbing about their ways of life to me.

My Mother stays close behind Lady Davis with a huge group of volunteer Omega woman to help the caged women and girls. I stand by Tracey as she opens the cage containing a shivering little girl. A Freedom Flyer wizard suddenly charges at us, but I flick my new wand lazily at him, and he goes flying off the ship.

“Pansy! We can’t kill them!” Tracey whips her head around to hiss at me. I wave her concerns away (I also notice the girl staring at me with complete adoration in her shining eyes).

“The Aurors will catch anyone who thinks of jumping,” I say, and sure enough, the wizard I threw overboard is brought up by an Auror on a broom.

Tracey sighs in exasperation, and helps the trembling girl out of the cage. I watch as she speaks comfortingly to her in Hawaiian. The girl just nods occasionally while her gaze is fixed on me.

Tracey wraps a blanket around her, (and it occurs to me there are Muggle women and girls captive here as well as the other Sylkies) and then the girl says something to me. I tilt my head, and Tracey translates.

“She wants to know if you are an angel,” she says with a warm smile. I crouch in front of the girl, and give her a hug. She beams up at me, and I look up at Tracey.

“Tell her I’m not an angel, I’m just a friend,” I say, and Tracey does so. I watch the foreign words come out of her mouth, and I feel the urge to kiss those lips. The child tilts her head, and then rapidly says something to Tracey. The Omega blushes, and stammers out a weak reply. The little girl smiles deviously, and I find it amazing that she can find happiness after what she’s been through.

The little girl then pulls an old, wilting, purple flower from her hair. She holds it delicately up to me, and gestures for me to lean down. I do so, and I hear Tracey coo gushingly as the Muggle girl expertly weaves the flower behind my ear.

“Thanks.” I say, and gently feel the flower. The girl chatters something to Tracey, who blushes more deeply

“What?” I ask, and the little girl crosses her arms and stamps her foot expectantly. Tracey crouches down next to me, and eyes me shyly.

“She says you look cute with a purple flower,” the Omega says abashedly. I smirk, and I turn Tracey to face me.

“Well of course I do,” I drawl smugly, and I kiss my Omega Sylkie deeply on the lips.

— . —

 _Revelio_ = Removing Charm 3x

 _Oblivate!_ = Memory Charm

 _Confundo-Petrificus Totalus!_ = Confusing Charm + Full Body-Bind Curse String

 _Finestra!_ = Glass Shattering Charm

 _Episkey!_ = Minor Healing Charm 2x

 _Incarcerous!_ = Rope Binding Spell

 _Imperio!_ = Unforgivable Imperius Curse


End file.
